Green

[RearEndCollision]

Softly now, the once tired fingers find a familiar and old friend in simple round buttons on his Remington 5. The force of each finger finding each key and the key finding its adjacent stamp and the stamp finding the page in its exact home is calming. Before long, those once tired fingers belong again to a youthful yet reluctant young hands; the search begins again as it always was. The scene plays again, like it was crafted from dreams for the first time, and the trance takes him swiftly away. Like small pieces of a lens, the tapping fingers make tapped words and it fleshes out to life. Standing now at a plateau of rolling green endless hills he exhales out a breath that had been held for longer than he could stand; his revitalized lungs thank the no longer dormant fingers. The bitter wind is still the supplier of his harsh dream, but a simple flick and glance to what lay beyond ails the stabbing wind and its sweeping numbness. His forgotten fingers proved a second greatly needed flick; the flint behind his only other lens receives the spark. He sleeps stronger tonight.